Erestor and Estel
by Pentangle-linnon
Summary: A series of short stories, each chapter one complete ficlet, starring grumpy ol' Erestor and darling little Estel.
1. Chapter 1

This is a series (ongoing) of ficlets concerning a very young Estel and my version of Erestor, an advisor to Elrond. Each 'chapter' is a complete story. They progress forward in time, showing the developing relationship between the two.

I didn't want to post such short stories separately, so I'm grouping them under one title. Most will be in response to the prompt challenge on the yahoo OAA list.

_Many_ thanks for reading, and of course, even more for reviewing!


	2. Hidden

This 500 word ficlet was inpired by the prompt: "Hidden"

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Erestor did not look up at the sound of the soft knock on his study door. He said brusquely, "Come in!"

Estel confidently pushed open the door and crossed the room, looking about him appraisingly. There were books on every flat surface and parchments on every spot not completely covered by the books. Estel sighed. This was obviously a busy-Erestor day. His conclusion was confirmed when Erestor said, still without raising his eyes from his work, "Now is not a good time, Estel."

"Not a good time for what?"

"For whatever you have come to bother me about."

"I did not come to bother you, Erestor," whimpered a voice that could only have come from a starving orphan. A starving orphan in a blizzard. Dressed in rags. With a crutch for his crippled foot.

"Do not think to try your tricks on me, sir! I am not Glorfindel—I do not heed your every whim."

Estel sighed again. "May I stay if I do not bother you?"

"Have you suddenly transformed into a well-behaved, quiet child?"

A wounded protest: "Erestor!"

"Very well. But please allow me to continue my work."

Estel took a seat and crossed his ankles and folded his hands. He sat for five minutes before saying, "May I have a book?"

Erestor groaned but laid aside his quill. Far be it from him to discourage intellectual development in the young. He rose and went to a shelf stocked solely with books he thought Estel would enjoy. "Try this one."

"Thank you." Estel looked at the beautiful illustrations for half of an hour, but then his heels began to tap against the chair legs—first gently and then with more vigor. Erestor's brows drew together and he prepared to snap at the boy, but the sight of the bent head and tongue-tip sticking out made him pause. Finally, after a few more minutes, one long-fingered hand moved to a drawer and removed a small, foil-wrapped oval. Without a glance at it he placed it on the edge of the desk and soon a much smaller hand closed over it and it disappeared. Then gentle sucking sounds were added to more chair tapping. Erestor huffed. Estel smiled; he thought Erestor could huff better than _anyone_.

Suddenly, the door opened and Lindir stepped in to tell Erestor that Elrond wished to see him. The councilor shoved his chair back in annoyance and left the room. Lindir looked at Estel, puzzled. "Why do you like to spend time with such an old grump? He never says anything kind to you, or even smiles at you."

"Yes, he does. You just need to know where he hides them."

"Hides what?"

"His smiles."

The minstrel chuckled, humoring the child. "So where _does_ he hide them?"

Estel said seriously, "In that bookshelf, over there. And in that drawer. In his lap when I'm crying, in his fingers when I hurt myself, and sometimes, when it's a very big smile—in his eyes."

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	3. Rogue Erestor

This was started for the prompt: Rogue, but it ran amuck, lengthwise.

Estel is probably about, oh, I don't know, let's say 7 or 8.

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**Rogue Erestor**

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Rogue: adjective; definition 4 - no longer obedient, belonging, or accepted and hence not controllable or answerable; deviating, renegade.

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The Lord of Imladris escorted his guest along a wide corridor until they came to a high, arching doorway. The man next to him tried to appear nonchalant as he gazed around him at the beauty evident in every part of this elven home. "In here, if you will, Aled. My Chief Councilor will have prepared the documents, and will only need to know a few details before having the parchments ready to sign."

As Elrond graciously gestured the man to enter before him, he became aware of the total silence in the spacious, bookshelf lined room. He saw no austere, black-robed elf at the desk, nor did he see him standing at the balcony, holding up some rare, faded parchment to the brighter light there. He went swiftly to the smaller door that led to Erestor's private office. No elf glanced up, startled and apologetic for being so engrossed in his work that he forgot the time. Utterly perplexed, Elrond wondered if his duteous friend was ill.

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Two hours earlier...

"But 'Restor, my brothers told me to come to see you!"

Erestor swore under his breath, only to stop short when he darted a glance to see Estel's interested eyes upon him. It was quite obvious why Elladan and Elrohir had sent the child to Erestor: they wanted to leave for a week's hunting trip without all the drama occasioned when any of Estel's family left Imladris – even for a short length of time. He admired their strategy, even as he deplored its results. Normally, he would be willing to provide books, or even short lessons, for the boy's entertainment, since he was not nearly so annoyed by the child as he lead others to believe. For some odd reason, he had never fooled Estel at all. It was amusing to see the baffled expressions among family members when the boy spoke of "my 'Restor". But today he had duties that could not be put off, if an important trade agreement was to be signed. He tried to explain, quietly and rationally, to the little human standing before his desk.

Estel listened until it was obvious Erestor had embarked on some lecture or other, then broke into the careful words. "I know you are busy, but so is Ada—he's been with that man for _hours—_and 'Ro and 'Dan are busy, and Lindir is busy, and Lolindir is busy, and Glorfindel is busy, and Tallon is busy, and -"

Erestor broke in before Estel could enumerate every elf in Imladris. "I am sorry, Estel, not today." He turned exaggeratedly to the work spread out on the desk before him.

Estel slumped down against the desk, his entire posture that of a lonely waif forced to make his own way in a cruel world.

Erestor sniffed sharply through his not inconsiderable nose, and found his place with one long finger.

Estel sighed and began to pick at a small scab on his arm.

An angry huff. "Stop that!"

A weak, pitiful reply. "Sorry."

Erestor found his place again.

Estel upped the ante with a barely audible sniffle.

Erestor continued writing. He told himself firmly that he was not a monster for ignoring the child.

Estel now pulled out the big bow. He began to speak to 'Tinu' in a soft, serious voice. "Oh, no, you must not say such a thing about my friend 'Restor."

"Er-es-tor. Erestor. You are old enough to say my name properly." Blast! It was imperative to keep oneself from being drawn into Estel's conversations with his imaginary friend.

" – about my friend _'Restor_. I know he seems mean sometimes, but he always takes care of me. There is no need to be rude just because it is the hottest day for _ages_ and the falls will be _wonderful_ after the rain last night. What's that? I _think_ he knows what fun means...No, I know he does not have any, but he still knows what it _means_; he is very smart, after all! What? That is _very_ rude! Grown-up work is important!" A quick glance to see what, if any, affect his words were having. "What's that? More important than little boys? I guess so..."

Erestor groaned. He held out for another minute before turning and saying gruffly, "Estel, you know perfectly well that you are more important than any work I might have to do -"

"YES!" Estel leapt to his feet and threw his arms around Erestor. "I _knew_ you would take me!"

Far, far too late, Erestor tried to exercise authority. "Estel, stop this at once! I have told you repeatedly not to grasp my robe in your abominably sticky hands! I did _not_ say I would take you swimming. I do not like swimming. There are many things we can enjoy together, here, in the library, but I _do not swim_."

Estel backed away, and said thoughtfully, "It does seem like a strange thing for you to do. I mean, you do not ride, or play, or fight, or - "

Erestor felt an uncharacteristic urge to defend himself. "I _can_ do those things. I _have_ done those things. But now my time is spent being an advisor and helper to your father. And today I need to -"

"I understand. Now that you are old, you do not have fun anymore." Estel looked exceedingly sorrowful for his friend.

Erestor sighed again. "Estel, I do have fun - it is just grown-up fun. I read books, I play chess, I have interesting conversations."

Rather appalled, Estel demanded, "Are you _sure _you know what the word fun means?"

Ignoring the minor for the major, Erestor tried again. "Estel. Listen to me. The papers I have to finish for your father are very, very important. They concern new trade agreements -"

"What's that?"

"That's when Imladris and other people agree on how they will exchange food and other things."

Estel's eyes grew wide. "You mean we will starve without them?"

"No! No, of course not! The agreement is merely for luxury items that we cannot grow."

"So they are _not_ that important."

"No. Yes! I mean, they are important to your father and to us. They -"

"Will he fire you if you do not do them?"

"No, Estel, he will not fire me. How ever do you think of such things?"

Estel knew almost as much about red herrings as Erestor did, and easily ignored the one offered him. "So if we will not starve, and Ada will not fire you, why is it so important?" Estel suddenly stopped trying to manipulate the councilor. With great earnestness he whispered, "I just want to understand, 'Restor."

Erestor stared at the child for a long while. Then he reached for the lid to his ink pot and covered it tightly. He set the parchments aside, and stood, offering his hand. Estel looked at it doubtfully. "Are you going to make me stay in my room?"

Drawing himself to his full height, Erestor said haughtily, "We are going to our quarters to assemble suitable swimming attire."

" '_Restor_!!"

A few minutes later the halls of Imladris were treated to the sight of a an elf, garbed in black robes which snapped and flapped at his ankles, striding along with a small human dancing around him like a damsel around a maypole. The elf ignored the squealing and giggling as he – Chief Councilor to Lord Elrond – tallied a list of the items required when one takes a small child swimming.

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When anxious inquiries had returned no hint of Erestor's whereabouts, Elrond joined the search himself. He had delivered his guest into Lolinder's hands, knowing the affable elf would keep the man distracted until the errant councilor could be found. When even Erestor's preferred locations for solitude and, to put it bluntly, hiding from social events, turned up empty, Elrond realized he had not seen Estel since the beginning of the search. He began to search anew, but now his worry was for a possibly endangered child. He hastened to Estel's favorite places, in particular those he was not allowed to visit alone. He was amazed when the search for one found two, and even more amazed at the sight that met his eyes when he rounded a rock outcropping adjacent to the loveliest falls in Imladris.

Estel stood on the edge of the granite overhang that bordered the deep pool at the bottom of the falls. He was poised to jump and Elrond shouted, "No Estel!"

The boy turned a face that was dazzling in its joy to his father and cried, "Ada! Watch me!"

Before Elrond could open his mouth again, Estel had launched himself into the air, arms and legs flailing. In a flash, Elrond was skinning out of his robes even before he reached the edge of the cliff. He stopped, hands frozen on the silver latchings, when he saw Erestor six feet below him with Estel in his arms. His reserved councilor was laughing as he tried to hold the slippery child, who was doing his best to push his friend beneath the surface of the crystal water.

"Erestor!"

Still laughing and sputtering, Erestor replied blandly, "My lord?"

"Erestor! You are swimming!"

"Discerning as always, my lord."

"Come out at once! We need you to complete that agreement! How could you leave us without -"

"No, my lord.

"Will you stop saying 'my lord' and – _what _did you say?"

Hefting Estel in one arm, Erestor met Elrond's eyes squarely. "I said 'no'. I am swimming with Estel. When we are finished, I will return to my duties." He swam one-armed to shallow water and gently pushed Estel away from him. "Stay here, Estel. I need to speak with your father a moment. I promise I will return shortly."

Erestor swam close to a still gaping Elrond, and pulled himself up onto the rock shelf with surprising ease. The water drained off his pale chest and arms, the weight of it dragging his black hair into a smooth, glistening sheet as far as the small of his back. He stood before Elrond, his old russet leggings dark from their immersion. "Before you admonish me for abandoning my duties, you might do well to consider what they are. What duties we _all_ have. Estel's brothers left him with me in order to avoid a farewell scene. You and Glorfindel were busy. _Everyone_ was busy. At least, too busy to play with a child who thinks they are his entire world. So, no, Elrond, I will not return to your trade agreement until Estel and I are finished. I will see you later this afternoon. There will be more than sufficient time to deal with the matter."

Erestor spun on his heel and poised on the edge of the shelf. Arms stretched overhead, palms pressed together, he turned his head and cried, "Watch me, Estel!" The boy encouraged him with delight, and the lean form stretched still more, then arced gracefully into the pool, leaving the merest ripple as he disappeared. He swam to Estel, and the boy gleefully clambered onto his back. Then Erestor stroked strongly to the deepest part of the pool, with Estel holding on like a limpet.

Seemingly forgotten, Elrond stood frozen, staring at Erestor who was now supporting Estel's body with his hands, encouraging him to relax and float. Suddenly, the elf lord finished unfastening his robe, and swiftly removed the many layers until he stood in his linen smallclothes. He strode to the edge of the rock shelf and called loudly, "May I please join you?"

Estel tried to jump up, his efforts sinking him briefly before Erestor's strong hands lifted him, holding him against his chest until the coughing fit passed. As soon as he caught his breath, Estel shrieked, "Yes! Come in with us, Ada!"

Erestor winced and pulled his head away from Estel's piercing voice. But as Elrond swam toward his son and friend, Estel renewed his tight grip around Erestor's neck. He placed a damp kiss on the cheek closest to him, whispering, "Thank you, 'Restor. For everything."

Erestor bestowed one of his rare smiles. "You are welcome, Estel. I am glad you wanted me with you today."

Before a grinning Elrond came up to them, Estel spoke directly into the sharply pointed ear next to his lips. "I _can_ say Erestor now, you know. But everyone calls you that. 'Restor is just for me. Just for you and me."

Erestor said quietly and solemnly, "Very well. I will allow 'Restor, if it is just for you and me." Fortunately, he was soaking wet. Otherwise, Elrond might have noticed the one salty drop among many others that trailed down his cheek.

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End


	4. Celebration

Written for the prompt: celebration (from the OAA Yahoo list)

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**Celebration **

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"I am not sure that is a good idea, Estel. I did that once, and I still have not heard the end of it — and it has been 1400 years!"

"I do not think I can help you, my son. Erestor is not very...that is...you know how much we all care for him, but you also know that he does not like some of the things that you like."

"No, little brother, for the simple reason that I do not care to be flayed alive, and to have my hide hanging on his wall, right next to the sword he used at the Last Alliance!"

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For Erestor, it had been one of those days. It had begun with explaining to Talinir the meaning of the new trade agreement – five times. (While he granted that elves do not age very much physically, nothing could convince him that senility didn't strike on a regular basis.) Next, two crises — one in the kitchen and one in the formal garden — required the personal attention of Elrond, so of course the elven ruler found a reason why Erestor should attend to them. To cap off the day, he had fended off the amorous attentions of an elleth who had apparently decided a description of her dream ellon included ascetic, caustic, and funereal. It was with an audible sigh of relief that he put his hand on his door-pull to retire for an evening of privacy and quiet.

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Estel had also had a difficult day. It had begun when his loved ones had refused to help him with a special project. It moved on to include precipitating a crisis in the kitchen and the formal garden, and — due to the aforementioned difficulty in obtaining cooperation — forced him to pilfer the stores for necessary materials. Nonetheless, he persevered, and now waited breathlessly for what seemed like _hours_.

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The door silently opened, and Erestor thankfully entered his quarters, his eyes drooping closed in fatigue. Thus it was that the first intimation that all was not as he left it was an almost cloyingly sweet smell of flowers. His eyes snapped open just as a voice shrieked, "SURPRISE!!"

Then a rare event occurred: Erestor's jaw dropped in stunned amazement. His room was, well, festooned implies some sort of organization, so perhaps the word he was looking for was...no, there simply _were_ no words. The chaos he gazed upon was akin to ordinary disorder in the same way a petty thief is akin to Sauron. Sadly wilting flowers lay on every available surface. Ribbons in every possible color stretched from drawer pulls to chair arms, from table legs to lamp stands. The room was crisscrossed with enough glittering string and small paper hoops to circle the Last Homely House twice. In the midst of the shambles a small human boy was leaping up and down, crying, "Happy Begetting Day, Erestor!"

The little vein in Erestor's temple throbbed in rhythm with Estel's gleeful bouncing. After a few moments of thunderstruck rigidity, Erestor moved, and moved quickly. He took two swift strides and placed one hand on Estel's shoulder, anchoring him firmly to the ground. He struggled to express himself. "You – what – why – Estel!"

The boy gazed up into Erestor's dumbfounded face, delighted that his friend was speechless. "I _knew_ you would love it! Everyone said you never have a party for your Begetting Day. They said you would not want me to celebrate your special day with you, but I knew that was just silly!"

Erestor tried again. "You – you did all this? _Alone_?" Surely a horde of barbarians had been required!

"I did! I started to make the paper chains two days ago, and it was hard to keep everyone from finding out."

"I can imagine." Erestor stepped to his desk and lifted a drooping lily. The flowers were not in vases, but lay in small, wilting bunches. Everywhere. Erestor mused with detached thoughtfulness, "This explains why the Chief Gardener was in an uproar. Amazing that he wasn't discovered."

Estel knew that Erestor did not jump around, or even laugh out loud very often, but Estel was starting to wonder if Erestor liked his surprise. Perhaps it was time to unveil the piece de resistance. He grabbed the unresisting hand of the councilor, and led him to a small table at the side of the room. On it sat a large, flat cake that bore a curious blurred inscription: "Happy AnBegetting Daysary, Erestoriel". Estel rubbed his chin, still not entirely pleased with his efforts. "I am sorry I could not get all of the other letters off."

"Another mystery solved. And here I thought the cook was hallucinating."

Erestor stilled seemed to be talking to himself more than Estel. The boy began to fear his family had been right. Worst of all, he began to fear Elledan was right. "Are you – you won't skin me, will you? I just wanted to make you happy."

Erestor ground his teeth, and counted. As he gave himself time to formulate a reply that would not devastate Estel's tender heart, he looked around the room once more. His eyes strayed over ribbon and paper, flowers and glitter, but after some moments began to see something besides disarray. He saw grubby little hands, carefully pasting the paper circles together, with a small tongue sticking out in concentration. He saw two short legs staggering beneath the burden of a huge cake. He saw innumerable trips back and forth to the gardens. He saw a formidable task, even for an adult. His anger melted away, and he turned to meet Estel's eyes for the first time since he entered the room. He pulled out a chair from the table and said regally, "Would you care to be seated?"

Estel smiled and scrambled into the offered chair. Erestor took up the sharp knife—there would need to be a discussion about that later—and cut a slice of the sticky, sweet pastry, laying it on the plate provided, and handing it formally to Estel. He served himself another slice, and picked up his fork with an internal sigh; he had never had much of a taste for sweets. He lifted the forkful and ate the cake manfully. Estel was grinning for all he was worth, frosting decorating the corner of his mouth. After Erestor had eaten a few more bites, he set his plate down and beckoned, "Come here." He opened his arms and Estel clambered into his lap. Erestor did not allow such liberties often, usually restricting them to soothing night fears, or those occasions when Estel fell ill. He closed his arms around the boy and Estel snuggled his face into the crook of Erestor's neck. The councilor felt a huge yawn against his throat and smiled. "Are you tired, Estel? I am not surprised; it is late, and you have worked very hard today."

"Mmmm. Maybe I am a _little_ tired."

The two sat companionably together for a time, and then Erestor asked, "Estel, why did you do this for me?"

The boy pulled back a bit, so that he could hold Erestor's gaze with his own. "When I was writing in the journal Elladan gave me, I was putting down everyone's Begetting Days, but I did not know yours. When I asked you, you said such things do not matter to grown-ups, but they do because we always have something special for dinner when it is 'Ro and 'Dan's Begetting Day, and Glorfindel always gets some special wine from Lowen — or someplace like that — and we have cake for me, and presents, too. And last year I made Ada a paperweight and he was very happy, and we do those things because we are glad we are alive and we are glad our family is alive, too, and then I thought that maybe you were not very happy to be here –" Estel stopped to drag in a needed breath, then continued, "but I am _so_ happy you are here that I want to jump and sing and run around. So I thought if you saw that I was glad to have you, you would be glad to have you, too."

Erestor was once again speechless, this time from amazement of another kind. Estel had always seen beneath his harsh exterior to the kinder spirit beneath it, but how had the child known of his despair? For at least a hundred years he had been unable to shake a pervasive melancholy, one so profound he had contemplated sailing many times. Ultimately, even that escape held no attraction, and he felt he merely existed, continuing to eat, to work, to breathe, from habit alone.

"You are happy to have me?" The child was compassionate, after all, and Erestor had simply assumed his heart could not exclude Imladris's official curmudgeon without feeling guilty for doing so.

Estel's arms tightened to a stranglehold. "I love you, 'Restor," he said simply.

Some of Estel's favorite things were all the big, strong, warm arms there were in Imladris, and how well and snugly they could hug little boys. It was true that Erestor hugged him—once in a great while—but his arms had always seemed a little tentative, as though he was not exactly sure how hugging was accomplished. Now those arms closed about Estel almost convulsively. The boy smiled again into Erestor's neck.

Erestor swallowed hard, and forced out, "I am...somewhat fond of you, Estel, as well." The elf allowed his weary soul a moment of sweet, unadulterated warmth and comfort before he rallied himself. "I am unaccustomed to having Begetting Day parties; you must tell me what we do next."

Estel began to wriggle off Erestor's lap. His smile was incandescent as he grasped his plate and thrust it toward Erestor. "We eat more cake!"

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The End


	5. Green

This ficlet was written in response to the prompt: Green

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GREEN

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Erestor's hand jerked and slashed across the parchment when the door slammed against the wall. He frowned as a small dust storm surged into his quarters from the corridor outside the library. When the storm came to a panting halt in front of Erestor's desk, the elf quickly moved through a long-established checklist: body - apparently not severely injured, as no disfigurement or blood could be seen; face – smiling, so apparently no great emergency existed in that portion of Imladris favored by the boy's presence that morning; eyes – shining like the brightest of Elbereth's stars with excitement and joy, therefore it might be assumed that this morning was also free of harrowing emotional drama.

Relieved, Erestor slowly set down the now useless quill, inserted the crystal stopper into the inkwell, and folded his hands on the desk before him – he knew well he would not soon be able to return to his task. "Yes, Estel? Was there something I could help you with?"

Estel had now regained enough breath to find his tongue. "Erestor! I had to tell you! I had my first _real_ training in arms today!"

The corners of the elf's mouth quirked slightly as he mused, "Ah. Was that today? I had forgotten."

Seeing the signs that in another person would be an outright grin, Estel laughed. "Yes, and I had the _best_ time! They let us use the short swords in the arms room, although mine was a little bent. But they also let us watch the officers sparring and I saw Glorfindel _fight_!"

"Did you now? And?"

"And I never got to _see_ Glorfindel fight before and it was _amazing_! He did like this – " The grubby body leapt into the air and spun, nearly hitting the corner of the desk. "And then like this –" The boy fell to the floor and rolled, springing to his feet while swinging an imaginary sword in a move that nearly brought down the tall candelabra stand that was nearby.

Erestor quickly rounded his desk and caught the young warrior in a firm grasp. "Perhaps it would be better to simply tell me about it, Estel, at least while we are indoors." He released the boy and pulled a chair before the desk. "Sit here and tell me all about it."

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15 minutes later…

" – so strong, and you should see his muscles when he isn't wearing a tunic! The other warriors all said, 'Yes, captain' to him, or 'at once, my lord' and you could see that he is a great commander and –"

"He is one of our greatest heroes, Estel. Naturally those who serve under him love and respect him."

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A half-hour later…

" – and when Elladan cut him he just laughed and brushed at the cut and kept fighting and acted like it did not even hurt while the blood was _running_ down and – "

"Estel, I should be getting back to my work –"

" – and Glorfindel fought all the warriors until they fell down just _heaving_ for breath and then another one would come at him and then –"

"Yes, Estel, he is indeed a mighty warrior, but –"

After several more minutes, Estel finally wound down and just sat in his chair, raptly gazing at the memory of a golden giant who bested all comers, laughing, his hair wild and blazing in the sunlight. Erestor enjoyed a few moments of peace before he noticed the shortness of the shadows on the floor by the balcony. "Estel, it is nearly time for nooning. You need to cleanse yourself and get ready for the meal. You had best change your clothes, as well."

Estel sighed, but knew that his entire family held the inexplicable opinion that he should attend meals at least marginally neat and clean. So he bid Erestor farewell and left the library, once again slamming the door.

Erestor tidied his desk and retrieved some reference scrolls he would need that afternoon. He was waiting for Estel to return and walk to the Hall with him, as he often did. He smiled and shook his head as he remembered how he had acquired his escort. Estel had been four years old at the time, and had overheard Elrond deploring the advisor's tendency to skip meals while engrossed with his work. Elrond had said to Glorfindel that he was afraid Erestor would starve himself into a decline. Estel had taken the statement literally, and neither his father nor the rest of the family could convince the child that the words were an exaggeration. From that day forward, Estel had come to collect Erestor each day for the noon meal, or at least whenever he was not otherwise engaged in mayhem. So this day Erestor waited for some time before it became obvious Estel would not return. He started for the Hall on his own and met Elrond along the way. The two continued to the Hall, Elrond laughing at the tale of Estel's excitement at finally beginning _real_ arms training. They stopped in the doorway to see the High Table already occupied by one re-born warrior and one human boy. The boy's face was raised and glowing as he spoke excitedly with Imladris' marshal. Erestor paused a moment, feeling a strange tightness in his chest.

Elrond gestured toward the charming picture Estel and Glorfindel made. "Estel is seeing his friend in a new light, it seems."

Erestor huffed, "He is the same Glorfindel he was yesterday."

Elrond turned to his friend in some surprise. He stared at him until suddenly he smiled with understanding and placed a comforting hand on a black sleeve.

Erestor stared right back at Elrond, one brow climbing. "What?"

"Oh, nothing really. For a moment it seemed as though your eyes were a little green in this light."

"What? Elrond, what can – oh for pity's sake! You cannot possibly mean that I am _jealous_ of Estel's admiration for _my_ _friend_ Glorfindel? I have never heard such nonsense!"

Elrond carefully controlled his wayward mouth. "I'm sorry, what was I thinking?" He and Erestor took their places and Elrond served his councilor himself as a gesture of penitence for his outrageous accusation. As he placed a lovely venison cutlet with mushroom sauce upon Erestor's plate, he murmured, "Since you are _not_ jealous, it is, of course, unnecessary for me to mention that Estel is just going through a phase; Elladan and Elrohir did the same, if you recall."

Erestor made the soft snort that meant understanding, if not agreement. After a brief glance at Estel, whose attention was still riveted on Glorfindel, he asked his cutlet softly, "Just a phase?"

Elrond smothered another smile. "I assure you. Just a phase."

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End


	6. Erestor's Garden

A/N For the OAA list prompt: Garden

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**Erestor's Garden**

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Estel sat on the balcony railing, kicking one leg against an ornately carved post. "Why don't you ever help us in the gardens? We had fun today and everyone was there but you."

"I have many duties, Estel, but working out in the gardens is not among them."

"Don't you like gardens? I thought everybody loves gardens."

With a sigh the black-robed elf leaned down and opened a drawer before pulling out a stick of wax and a seal. "Estel, I am busy. I suggest you go _to_ a garden. Feel free to spend a few hours. The entire afternoon would not come amiss."

Estel grinned and nodded wisely. "You want to be rid of me."

"Very astute of you. However, I have no intention of pinning my hopes upon an event that I have never yet had the pleasure of experiencing."

Estel slid bonelessly down the support posts until he sat on the floor cross-legged. "You mean I don't leave."

"As I said." Pressing the seal into a puddle of melted wax, Erestor reached with his other hand for yet another parchment. His desk was placed close to the balcony in this warm spring weather, and he had a good view of the young rascal that plagued his days. Without pausing in his work he said flatly, "If you get your head stuck between the balusters again, I will leave you there until the birds nest in your hair."

Estel jerked his head back, but looked quite taken with this prospect. "That would be fun!"

Erestor shook his head. "Were you _ever_ frightened of me like all the _good_ children are?"

"No, 'cause I'm not good. Glorfindel says I'm a limb of Sauron."

"For once, he and I agree on something." The councilor raised his head and frowned at the human child. "Estel, has Elrond spoken to you about beginning new lessons?"

Estel groaned like a man facing life imprisonment. "Yes. I can't believe there are more lessons. I already have reading lessons and writing lessons and -" he gagged slightly "- depotement lessons and -"

"Deportment. De-port-ment."

Anguished, Estel cried from the heart, "See? I have lessons _all_ the time! How can I have _more_?"

Erestor smothered the smile that tried to form. "These will be different lessons, Estel. They will be about more grown-up things and I – for my sins – will be teaching you."

Estel leapt to his feet. "You? You will be my new teacher? Ada didn't tell me that!" Estel ran to Erestor and began to tug at the elf's arm.

"Estel! Stop that! What on Arda are you -"

"Get up! Get up! We cannot dance around if you just sit there!"

"Have you taken leave of your senses? I have no intention of – "

"But I'm so happy!" Estel began to dance about on his own. "What are you going to teach me? Huh? Huh?"

Erestor got abruptly to his feet, but not to dance. He grasped the jigging boy by both arms, forcefully stilling him. "Stop grunting like a barbarian! If you will be quiet, I will tell you what you wish to know."

Estel relaxed in the firm hold. That's how it was with Erestor. You had to take him on his owns terms, and his terms did not include hopping around the room. Estel sighed but decided against using his 'child who has had his spirit cruelly broken' expression, since it was best not to overdo that one.

After pinning Estel with a sharp glare for several seconds to see if there would be any more foolishness, Erestor continued. "I will be teaching you history, geography, diplomacy, economics, and many other things. You will have other teachers as well, but your father has given me charge of your education until you reach your majority."

Estel, eyes fixed on a bleak future, protested, "But I've never even _heard_ of dip-whatever and eco - economics. I don't think other children study stuff like that."

Erestor hesitated, selecting his words with care. "You are the son of a ruler, Estel. I think, if you ask your friend Legolas, that you will find he has had to study those subjects as well."

Estel brightened considerably at the mention of his special friend, but continued to fight bravely, "But...he is the son of a king. He is a _prince_; he will be a king someday."

A strange, rather painful sensation burned behind Erestor's breastbone. His fingers twitched as if they would like to smooth the cheek of the child before him. "You must trust that your father knows what is best for you, Estel." He forced a grin, scaring the boy half to death. "It will not be so dreadful, I promise you. Many of the things you will learn will involve exciting battles and wars, and people in places so far away that they have summer when we have winter, and winter when we have summer."

Estel's eyes glowed, for he was in truth a clever and curious child. "Well, I suppose if they will be _interesting_ things, I will try to learn them."

Erestor said, dry as dust, "I thank you for your forbearance."

Relieved that his Erestor was once again behaving normally, Estel made the one request that was never denied him. "May I have a book?"

Erestor swept an arm in a graceful gesture that indicated Estel's very own shelf with books selected just for him. He chose one, then returned to Erestor's desk to read it, sitting on the floor with his back propped against the side. After some time had passed in amity and, in Erestor's words, blessed silence, Estel returned to his earlier subject. "So you do not like gardens, then?"

Amused at the tenacity of the boy's mind, Erestor turned his head and gazed for long moments at Estel. He took in the lofty brow and the eyes that snapped and sparkled with intelligence. He leaned down and tapped one temple gently. "I _do_ like gardens, Estel. I have been a gardener for many years, but not all gardeners cultivate flowers or good things to eat. It happens I am planning a new garden even now."

"Well, what will you grow then?"

Erestor appeared to ignore the boy as he returned to his work. Estel, used to the councilor's moods, shrugged and went back to reading his book. But the quill in Erestor's hand was still, and his eyes stared straight ahead, seeing not the trees and waterfalls of Imladris, but rather an uncertain future.

// May the Valar aid me! I will grow a king.//

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End


	7. Mishap

I would like to apologize to my readers on for not answering reviews for the last three months. I broke my left wrist (and oh joy, I'm left-handed) quite badly, requiring surgery, pins, and other fun stuff. Then I used my right hand so much to compensate, that I got tendinitis in that hand so I couldn't even type one-handed. I'm so far behind that I am not going to try to answer past reviews, but I want you to know that I read them all and I appreciated every single one. This is a ficlet I finished just before I broke my arm that was written in response to the prompt: Mishap. As you'll see, the subject matter is rather ironical, considering.

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"Lord Elrond! There has been an accident!"

The Lord of Imladris turned from the bookshelf he had been perusing and asked calmly, "What has happened?"

The young elf panted, "By the second cascade…Estel and Erestor…broken arm…hit his head…the boy is dreadfully upset, crying and covered in blood!"

The calm became rigidly controlled apprehension. "Is someone with them?"

"No, for I was coming home alone from the south gardens. I thought only to get help."

"How badly is Estel injured?"

"I – I do not know. I just saw blood and the boy so white and shaking – Erester shouted at me to go for aid, so I just…I just ran."

Elrond bit back angry words; there was no point chastising a youngling who had little training or experience with medical emergencies. "There was little else you could do. Help us further by calling for a litter to meet me there, and show the bearers the way."

As the young elf drew a calming breath, Elrond spun away, his over-robe sliding over his shoulders and soaring several feet before settling to the floor. As he strode from the room in tunic and leggings he leaned down without a pause, dragging a haversack filled with medical supplies from its shelf near the door.

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"Estel, you must stop carrying on like this. It is just a broken arm and your father will be here soon. The more you move about, the more painful it will be."

"But there is bone sticking out! Oh, Erestor, I think I am going to be sick!"

Erestor felt a bit green about the gills himself, gazing at the small shards of white that emerged from their bloody bed. He reached out and pushed dark hair back from the child's face. "I know it looks dreadful, Estel, but your father has seen far worse. A few days in the healing rooms and we will be back to our lessons in no time, you will see."

"It is going to hurt awfully when Ada straightens it!"

Long fingers gentled the wet cheeks. "Yes, I expect it will, but your father will give you some special tea that will help to settle you. He will give it to both of us, no doubt, for my own nerves are a bit stretched at the moment. It will be a long time before I forget seeing you fall off that rock! But all will soon be well, and after the tea we will desire nothing so much as a nice nap."

Estel's eyes were wide with shock and fear, and he forgot for a moment that he was a very brave young man. "Will you stay with me? For the nap?"

Erestor smiled wryly, "I doubt your father will allow it. Besides, your brothers are home and as soon as they hear about what has happened, they will be by your side. Indeed, I am surprised they are not here already."

Normally the mention of Elladan and Elrohir would cheer Estel, but now he just pressed closer into Erestor's side. The hand that had stroked Estel's face eased around the boy's shoulders, taking care not to jar the injured arm. Muffled sobs could be heard close to the elf's armpit. Erestor grimaced and drew a shaking breath. //Elrond, blast it, where are you?//

As if summoned, Elrond's voice was heard calling from a distance. "Erestor! Estel!"

"Here! Behind the granite outcropping!" Erestor sagged with relief. "Estel, your father has found us."

Elrond broke through some bushes and into the clearing surrounding a jutting rock formation. His eyes found Estel at once, sitting on the ground next to Erestor, their backs pressed against the granite that towered over them. The boy's hands were covered in gore and there were ominous splotches on face and clothing. Estel scrambled up and ran to his father, throwing his arms around him, trying to speak around his sobs. "Ada, it was terrible! Erestor told me not to but I did and I fell and it was so far down but Erestor jumped under me and I b – broke his arm and his head! Please fix him now, Ada, he must hurt so much!"

Elrond's head, lowered to inspect his son, jerked up and took in the sight of his Chief Councilor. A very rough bandage had been tied around Erestor's head, lumpy and twisted and stained scarlet over an alarming expanse. The habitually pale complexion had the sheen of cold perspiration and a distinct gray tinge.

Frowning under his lord's dumbfounded regard, Erestor struggled to his feet, wincingly careful of his broken arm. "Do not stand there like a stock, Elrond. I merely had a slight mishap."

As Elrond started toward Erestor, Estel slipped past and slung an arm around the advisor's waist, jostling him enough for his knees to buckle. Elrond quickly supported the shattered forearm, and said even as he assessed the break, "Hold on, my friend, there is a litter coming behind me, and poppy syrup in my pouch. We will soon have you more comfortable."

Erestor grumbled, "Always the healer's 'we'. I have told you before it makes you sound demented, not to mention being extremely annoying." The injured elf shot a glance at the worried child who still held him tightly. "Besides, I have been well taken care of by _this_ young healer - one who somehow manages to refer to himself in the singular, I might add."

Elrond smiled at Estel's anxious expression. "I see that you have been in good hands."

Estel hurried into speech. "I only had one shirt so I thought the cut on his head was most important. I…I…was afraid to touch his arm. I'm sorry, Ada."

"You did well, my son. You knew help was not far away so you decided to wait for me. That was the best thing you could have done. You stopped the bleeding from his head wound, which was the more immediately dangerous. And I am sure you kept our dear Erestor from injuring himself further."

Erestor snorted, but the bustle of elves arriving with the litter covered the sound. Elladan and Elrohir had brought the litter themselves, and soon a small procession was making its way back to the Last Homely House. First came a young elf of the household, trotting ahead to select the clearest path for the litter to traverse. Then came Elrohir, walking easily between the shafts at the head of the litter. Gently swaying, Erestor rode with his arm padded against vibrations, well sedated and humming happily. Estel knelt between Erestor's ankles, cleansed of dirt and blood and keeping a proprietary eye on his patient. Elrond walked alongside the litter, watching Erestor for signs of shock and planning the coming surgery out in his mind. At the end of the procession Elladan carried the foot of the litter—occasionally teasing Estel by staggering slightly and moaning about the weight of humans.

Estel frowned as austerely as Erestor ever had. "Elladan, stop shaking Erestor! He is in pain and you must be more careful."

"Hmmmm. Hmm. Hmmmmmmm," hummed Erestor.

Elladan laughed. "I do not think he is in much pain, Estel!"

Ignoring brothers who have no comprehension of the seriousness of the healer's art, Estel patted Erestor on the knee. "Do not worry, Erestor. We will be home soon, and Ada will fix your arm."

Erestor smiled beatifically and tapped Estel with the side of his foot in a gentle rhythm that matched music only he could hear. "Hmm. Hmm. Hmmmmmm."

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End


	8. Holmes and Watson

This chapter in the "Erestor and Estel" series is different from the previous chapters. For one thing, it's longer. It was written for the Teitho fanfiction contest which had the theme: whodunnit? I decided to add it to this series rather than post it as a stand-alone fic. Estel is about 14 years old in this chapter, but there will be lots more ficlets where he is younger, as in the previous chapters. 

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**Holmes and Watson**

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**The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.**

(Hound of the Baskervilles; A.C. Doyle)

Winter was just beginning to settle over the small, hidden kingdom of Imladris, gilding her roofs with glittering frost but holding back on the first deep snow. The household bustled with the final preparations for cold and hunger as flues were cleaned, the last layers were added to teetering stacks of cordwood, and the storerooms and granaries were filled and tallied. In the midst of all the normal activities, the little irregularities that inevitably accompany community life went on unabated.

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"Excuse me, _Chief Councilor_, but while I have not had the education you have, I believe I can manage to count to thirty!"

Erestor refrained from remarking that while that might possibly be the case, both hands, both feet, and a few pebbles would be required before the elf standing before him could accomplish the feat. He drew a calming breath and said quietly, "I intended no insult, Baenthir. It is simply hard to imagine what could have happened to three of the gold goblets. I believe that if you say they are not merely misplaced, then they are not. Give me a few days to make inquiries and I will speak with you again."

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"Elrond, I would hardly go so far as to say I am in an uproar, or even a mild pique. It is my duty to apprise you of any aberrant occurrences in the household, and so I have told you. What you choose to do about it, if anything, is entirely up to you."

"You are my advisor: advise."

"I am inclined to do nothing. Things disappear from time to time, after all, in even the most regulated households." Erestor's voice was complacent with the knowledge that Elrond's house was very well regulated indeed, thanks chiefly to his own efforts.

"So they do. Hand-mirrors, hair ribbons, small tools of all sorts, but _gold_ Erestor? Three goblets are hardly a fortune to us, but, well, _gold_? You seem quite cavalier about it."

"What are you suggesting? That someone in Imladris stole them? Who and why? We are perhaps over fond of beautiful things and have acquired a great many in this island of peace, but none of us has need of coin or barter-goods beyond the commerce we engage in as a kingdom. Even if someone felt such a need, he need only petition the council and his requirements would be met."

"On reflection, I think you are right. Give the kitchen-steward a gentle reminder to keep his inventory carefully, and let that be an end to it."

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"You do not mean that!"

"How many times have you heard me say something I did not mean?"

"But – you are going to do nothing?"

"You have understood me correctly. Congratulations." Erestor shook his head at the astonished expression of the young man standing before him. He narrowed his eyes as the pale rays of the winter sun fell directly upon the boy's face. The skin over the strong bones had regained its color, and the dark circles were gone from beneath eyes now clear and bright with excitement. He dropped his eyes down the long, rangy body, thin as a rail from the last growth spurt. He noticed that little weight was supported on the crutch propped under one armpit, and that the bandaged foot was resting lightly on the ground. Another week, two at the most, and the human son of the house would be released from a dreadful bondage. A badly sprained ankle—its cause still creating some tension at mealtimes—had kept the boy indoors and quiet, much to his disgust. Erestor ruefully agreed with the exasperated father who had stated that it was better for the household when Estel was more _seriously_ injured. At least then he did not wander the halls pestering its residents to the point of madness. During the past two weeks Erestor had pondered deeply on his own recent activities, trying to discern which of his shortcomings was being punished by the Valar with the boy's constant presence. It was inevitable that Estel would hear of the desultory inquiries Erestor was making about the missing goblets. Thus the boy's current astonishment.

Estel hobbled to Erestor's desk, hitching one hip against the corner where he stayed until an icy glare caused him to hop the short distance to a comfortable chair. As soon as he settled his foot out in front of him, he picked up his argument. "But don't you care what happened?"

Erestor reached in a very pointed fashion for a parchment and rustled it sharply as he prepared to write upon it. "Not at all. Unless and until our entire state dinner service marches out of the hall to the tune of "Border Lands", I have other pressing matters to take up my time and attention."

"But – "

"Estel! If you cannot speak without beginning a sentence with that offensive expression, you may go and bother Glorfindel!"

The boy ducked his head. "Sorry. I just thought you would be more, well, angry, that there is a thief in Imaladris." Long tan fingers picked at a broken thread in the chair arm's embroidery.

Erestor's lips twitched at the sure sign of Estel's contrition. "First of all, leave the poor chair alone; it has done nothing to you that I am aware of. Secondly, we have no evidence whatsoever that there is a _thief_, as you say, in Imladris. This is a very large household and things go missing from time to time."

Estel's head snapped up. "But Erestor, aren't you going to do _anything_?"

The counselor lowered his face into his hands and counted to himself. Slowly.

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Two days later Erestor was forced to reconsider his earlier decision, and Estel was present to hear the unsettling tidings. The boy sat on the balcony railing, dropping tiny bits of bread to the birds that flocked eagerly below him. When his father entered the echoing library the boy sat quite still, hoping to escape attention. His ears, near as keen as an elf's, took in every word that was spoken.

"Ah, Elrond. It will be another hour before I have the documents finished."

"There is no hurry with that, Erestor. I have come about another matter. It seems that Glorfindel is missing some gold chain he had acquired over the years. Nothing of sentimental value, fortunately."

Erestor placed his quill carefully in its stand and said soberly, "Today the armorer reported some silver plate is missing from the Hall of Guardians as well."

"Then we can no longer pass this off as common mischance. We do have a thief. Here. In Imladris."

Erestor shook his head, black hair rippling in a snake-like curve down his back. "Why?_Why_? There is no need…"

"We will find the 'why' when we find out 'who'. May I place this in your hands? You will have all the assistance you require."

"Yes, I had better deal with it myself. However, I do not want anyone else involved. I do not want the entire populace to know what canker eats at us, until we are ready to take action."

"Very well. Try to hand off some of your other duties to someone else though, if only to please me."

Erestor nodded distractedly, already considering the best way to go about a distasteful business.

Elrond smiled, clasped a narrow shoulder briefly and left the room, the door closing with a soft thud.

Estel waited only until the door closed securely before limping quickly across the marble floor. "Erestor! _Now_ you have to admit something is going on!"

"So it seems, brazen one. Have you no shame that you eavesdropped on your father and myself?"

"Not really. Listen, you need help!"

"You just heard me say I required none."

"You said you don't want anyone else to know about it, but I _already_ know, plus I have lots of time to help you. This will give me something to do; you have been after me for days to find something to occupy me!"

"But that is because I was trying to get you to stop interrupting and pestering me."

Estel could not hide the excited sparkle in his eyes so he dropped them, letting the dark lashes rest against his cheek. His shoulders slumped and he said in a voice that tried oh-so-hard to sound adult, yet dripped with misery nonetheless. "I see. I – I am sorry. I do not mean to...to annoy you, Erestor. I just like to be with you, but I will not bother you anymore…." He trailed off and started for the door, leaning hard on his crutch and hobbling pathetically.

Erestor watched the tragic spectacle for a moment before he scraped his chair back roughly and started toward the door. "Estel, wait! You know perfectly well that I – that I do not find your company intolerable." He approached the young man and one hand reached for Estel's arm, appearing spastic in its fits and starts before it settled firmly into place.

Estel did not turn or raise his head. "You mean you will let me help you find the thief?"

"Yes, yes, if that will convince you I do not hate you, then yes, you may help me."

Estel spun around, laughing as he nearly unbalanced on his crutch and had to grasp Erestor's robe with one hand. His eyes were dancing with mischief.

Erestor reared back. "You little demon! You manipulative, conniving –"

The laughing eyes warmed with a deeper emotion and the boy leaned forward, resting his cheek against Erestor's shoulder. He rubbed it softly against the heavy black silk, taking a liberty no one else would ever be allowed. "I'm sorry. I'm too old to wheedle you anymore, I know that. I miss it sometimes, though. The way I could always get you to do what I wanted." Estel whispered softly, "If you really do not want me to help you, I will not 'pester' you, I promise."

One long-fingered hand rested a brief moment on the unruly dark hair. "I have little faith in that promise, but I will not test your resolve. I have said you may help me, and so you shall."

Estel raised his head and said, his voice tight with excitement, "Oh, thank you! What do we do first?"

Erestor returned to his desk. "First you let me finish my work. We will begin after the noon meal."

"Good! I have a great many ideas –"

"That is exactly what I am afraid of. Now leave me in peace until later."

Estel, his limp much improved, moved quickly to the door. "I will come back directly after dinner. Oh, and Erestor?"

The elf did not bother to glance up from his parchments. "Hmm?

"You started a sentence with 'but'."

Erestor's head snapped up at that, and an irate finger stabbed in the direction of the door. "OUT!"

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"So what are we going to do?"

"_I_ am going to speak with various people about ordinary matters, and then touch lightly upon our mystery, as you call it. _You_ are going to carry this – " The counselor deposited a packhorse load of parchments, quills, inkpots, and ledgers in Estel's arms. " – and take notes of whatever is said. You will _not_ ask people if they have stolen anything –"

"I wouldn't!"

"Or if they are suspicious characters – "

"Honestly Erestor, you must think I am a complete idiot!"

An eyebrow soared. "Or if they have been sneaking around anywhere."

Estel gave a disgusted snort, but he really did want to be in on the chase so he pressed his lips together and looked as cooperative as he possibly could. "I will be your silent secretary, I promise."

Erestor looked skeptical, but led the way into the hallways of the Last Homely House. As he closed the door of his study behind him, he frowned at Estel juggling his burden. "You will be able to manage? You can do without your crutch now?"

Estel nodded vigorously, leaning a bit as one scroll starting sliding from his grip. "I have not truly needed it for days, but I could not get rid of it until Ada said I might. This morning he said I could discard it, but must remain indoors a few more days." He smiled brightly at his grumpy mentor. "So everything has worked out very well, don't you think?"

Erestor snorted Estel's favorite snort. Robust yet patrician, speaking volumes. He swept down the hallway, with a grinning Estel scurrying in his wake. He then proceeded to meet with several people as they went about their work for the day. Each meeting consisted of a greeting, a little good-natured chaffing of the new 'secretary', and then a discussion of the problems encountered by whichever overworked, under appreciated member of the Last Homely House they had encountered.

Estel wrote diligently, occasionally smirking or frowning but keeping his rampageous curiosity under strict control.

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"So I ask you, how am I supposed to provide enough linen for the household if the flax suppliers send such inferior goods?"

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"That's enough about business matters, when are you going to give me a chance to get my revenge, Erestor? You have beaten me the last six times we played."

"What a positive outlook you have, considering that statistics would indicate yet another loss were we to play again!"

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"You are to be commended, Baenthir, to have so much oatmeal left in the barrel by this time of the month."

The elf clapped the advisor on the back and said heartily, "Waste not, want not, eh Erestor?"

"Er - indeed."

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"I know you have Elrond's ear, Erestor. You need to convince him that we cannot continue to have this 'open border' policy, letting men, elves from other kingdoms, and wizards come and go as they please."

"You must speak with him of your concerns yourself. I am hardly going to urge against a policy with which I agree. Now, may we return to the matter at hand: you say that you need another apprentice if you are going to complete the next allotment of mail on schedule?"

"Yes, and Elrond has ignored my request! There are only so many hours in the day! And I am still required to supply plowshares and hoes for next spring, as well as –"

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Estel threw himself into an armchair, his burden sliding to the ground as he did so. Erestor followed the boy into his study, and glared pointedly at the untidy heap at Estel's feet. The boy rolled his head on the chairback, moaning as stiff neck muscles protested. "Do not look at me like that! I have done yeoman service this day. My hand is cramped, my back will never be the same, my eyes are blurry, and I nearly died from the strain of saying nothing."

Erestor's eyes softened. "Indeed, you did well, my assistant. I was sure you were going burst at the seams when Carlinir was criticizing your father's policies."

"I was _so_ good! I would be angry with him, but I am too tired." Estel slid further, until Erestor's own neck ached at the sight of the position the boy assumed. "What is next? I do not think I can listen to any more silliness or complaining. I had no idea so many elves are so foolish – I never noticed it before."

Erestor chuckled richly. "Why, Estel, I shall make a cynic of you yet."

Estel grinned. "Well, I have the finest teacher! Seriously, though, what should I do?"

"For tonight: go to bed. Tomorrow we can go through your notes and make a list of anomalies and anything we may think is significant. We will go over it together."

"Tomorrow sounds wonderful." Estel slid completely to the floor and began to gather his belongings together. "I think I will leave these here, since my room does not have a lock." Yawning widely he placed his somewhat ordered materials on Erestor's desk.

"An excellent thought, Estel. I bid you good-night."

Nodding and heading for the door, the boy tried to reply politely, but his words were swallowed by a yawn of gargantuan proportions.

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The next day Estel was completely recovered and bounced into Erestor's study as soon as he finished breakfast. He found Erestor frowning over a large tome written in script almost too small to read. The advisor glanced up and sighed at the sight of so much enthusiasm and energy bound into a relatively small package. Erestor closed the book and said reluctantly, "I see you are ready to begin. Today we are going to be searching rooms -" He held up a hand to still an enthusiastic response. "I cannot begin to express the distaste I feel for such a task, but it cannot be given over to another, considering that almost no one knows of our quest."

Estel tried momentarily to assume an expression of regretful soberness, then gave it up as a bad job and rubbed his hands together. "Now we will get somewhere! We may even find the stolen goods!"

Shaking his head, Erestor bid Estel gather up his bundle of parchments, quills, and ink, and together they approached the first of the rooms Erestor had determined might be good candidates to search. As the morning wore on, Estel was amazed at some of their findings.

"Why on Arda does Lolindir have a little bunch of dried flowers on his pillow?"

Erestor smiled gently, and stepped back from the drawer he had been searching. He indicated a linen handkerchief containing a curl of blond hair tied up in a red ribbon. "Does this not suggest a reason?"

Estel stared at the object. "No. Lolindir is not even yellow-haired. What does it mean?"

"Love, dear boy. This is a token from Lolindir's betrothed."

Repulsed, Estel drew back as if the dainty curl might contaminate him. "Yuck. I will_never_ keep something to remind me of a girl!"

Erestor's smile widened. "Time will tell."

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"Erestor!!"

The intense emotion in Estel's voice jerked Erestor's head around. The elf had been feeling carefully under the mattress of a large four-postered bed, but paused as he asked, "What have you found?"

Estel backed out of the wardrobe he had been examining on his hands and knees. "Shoes! And boots!"

Erestor turned back to the mattress. "Shoes and boots in a wardrobe – how shocking!"

"No, there are_three_ left shoes and _five_ right shoes! Come and see!"

Erestor straightened his back and moved to stand beside Estel, who was pulling shoes and boots from the wardrobe in desperate haste, lining them up by pairs or trios. Before him lay a pair of dress slippers, a trio of hunting boots, and a trio of stout gardening brogues. Estel looked up at his mentor, eyes wide. "This _must_ mean something! Who needs extra right shoes unless there is a sinister reason?"

Erestor finished his examination of the footwear and smirked at the boy kneeling beside him. "I hardly think the reason is sinister."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Elementary, Estel. See how the right shoes are bent and folded just above the sole? The leather is broken down there. The garden shoe is nearly unwearable it is so badly turned over. No doubt this elf has an old injury that causes his ankle to tip to the side slightly, breaking down his footwear. He wisely orders an extra right shoe when he requests new ones. No doubt the reason there is only one right slipper is because he has already discarded the first one. You can see that the left slipper is more worn than the left brogue or the left boot. He has had the slippers long enough to discard the first right slipper, and has begun to wear the second.

Estel stared at Erestor, amazed at his deductive powers. It took a sharp cough to recall him to his duty.

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The next time Estel called for Erestor's attention, in yet another elf's rooms, his voice was subdued and anxious. When Erestor joined him, he saw the boy held a torn sheet of parchment with a list of names. Estel handed over the scrap saying, "I found this underneath the desk. I do not know all these elves, but these three -" Estel's finger pointed. "- I think they are elves who do not agree with how Ada rules Imladris."

Erestor's brows drew together as he perused the names. The last on the list was unevenly torn, showing only that the name began with an 'm' and ended with an 'r'. "Ah, yes. You are quite correct; many of these elves—and their politics—are well-known to me." He looked down into the worried gray eyes and said gently, "One may disagree with your father's policies and yet not be a thief, Estel. However, I am pleased you found this, as a few of these names are a surprise to me. Well done."

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At the end of nearly five days of investigation, Estel and Erestor had several parchments covered with notes and lists of odd occurrences. Estel set down the parchment in his hand with a frustrated groan. "How can we tell what is important out of all this? We have not found the least sign of the gold or silver, and are not likely to either, since it could be hidden here and there all over Imladris."

Erestor poured his exhausted assistant a small glass of wine, as well as a larger one for himself. "I do not think that is the case, Estel. Think about it. There are at least twenty pieces missing, all bulky except for Glorfindel's chains, and even those are not dainty things to easily put in a pocket."

"But you could hide it all in the hay in the stable -"

"Someone might hit it with the tines of a pitchfork."

"That is not very likely – there is enough hay for all of winter!"

"Put yourself in the thief's place. Unless he is a stablehand, he probably does not visit the stables very often. How would you feel, knowing the treasure you had stolen was lying there, able to be found at any moment, when you would not be nearby to hinder the finder, or retrieve it?"

Estel chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "I would worry all the time."

"Exactly. I have had Glorfindel make discreet inquiries, and there has been no one appearing in the stables frequently or at unusual times. The same concerns hold true for most obvious hiding places."

Estel was beginning to see the scope of the problem. "And if he hid it a piece at a time, he would have all that worry twenty times over, unless he has gotten it away completely by now."

"I doubt that he has done so. No one has left Imladris except for the normal patrols; it is no time to be beginning a journey with the weather getting worse every day."

"Then what are we to do? It will take years to search every nook and cranny, and meanwhile the thief could be moving them to a place we have already searched! It's hopeless."

"Not quite as bleak as all that, Estel. Let us think for a moment about motivation. Why do people steal?"

"Well, there are lots of reasons, I suppose. If they are hungry, or need clothing...or are just plain greedy."

"I think we can rule out hunger here in Imladris. If hunger touches any, it touches all, and we have been fortunate this last yen in both crops and trade. Clothing or trinkets would be stolen directly, I think, from wash lines or sleeping chambers. That leaves greed. Why would someone feel the need for so much gold and silver?"

Estel felt himself forced to touch on a subject that always made him uncomfortable, yet he felt the point had to be made. He picked nervously at a scab on his wrist. "Some people like to have things...special things...even if they do not belong to them... like the Silmarils."

Erestor's face twisted at the open mention of a shame he preferred to leave to the mists of time. Nonetheless, he refused to take out the tattered remnants of rage and pain on this child. He spoke quietly and was pleased to see Estel relax. "That is true, but although the goblets, plate, chain, and other items that have gone astray are attractive, there are many finer items here, some of notable beauty or great historical worth. These particular things were not taken by someone made mad by beauty and desire."

Erestor sat down at his desk and pulled open a drawer, withdrawing from it a small ceramic jar which was decorated with gilt and painted with vines and flowers. "Come here, Estel."

The boy rose from his chair and walked to where Erestor sat with one hand extended to grasp Estel's wrist. "What have you done to yourself now, and why did you not go to the healers?"

Estel's hand lay trustingly in Erestor's. "It is nothing – just a scrape."

"Even small wounds can become infected in a human. Hold still." Erestor opened the jar and swiped a fingertip through the pale yellow ointment within. He carefully rubbed it into the small sore on Estel's arm, making sure it penetrated well. "There, that should do."

Estel watched as the long, pale fingers capped the jar. "Thank you, Erestor. You are right, even that jar is prettier than the things that were taken, so the reason must be for the value of the gold and silver, not the form that it is in."

"I think we can take that as given. So again I ask, why would someone steal, if not for the needs of the body?"

Estel gnawed on a fingernail. "If people do not feel the need to steal to eat, or take care of their families, then they must be unhappy about something – something that they think can be made better with gold."

"Well reasoned, Estel. Such as...?"

Estel looked helplessly at his teacher and friend. "I do not think I am grown up enough to know."

Erestor smiled at Estel with warm affection. "Such wisdom shows me that you are growing up indeed. It is true that you will probably find the reasons for the theft hard to understand—once we discover them—but you are a very perceptive young man, and even from a child you were aware of the feelings of those around you. So tell me who you think is unhappy of those we have spoken with."

Estel moved his attention to a different fingernail and Erestor itched to pull the offending hand away from the boy's mouth. Completely oblivious, Estel mused, "Well, Gildor always seems angry to me, but no doubt that is because he thought to have Glorfindel's place before Ada made him marshal. I do not see how gold could help him, though. Baenthir is obviously unhappy his goblets are gone, but I doubt he stole his own things. Lindir seemed very unhappy when we spoke to him; he even said he wanted to leave Imladris." Estel whispered guiltily as he accused a friend, "He might need gold to start a new life somewhere."

Erestor also looked saddened as he replied, "That cannot be ruled out as a possibility. Anyone else?"

"I suppose all the elves on that list we found are unhappy or angry."

"Hmmm. I had believed those elves to be merely somewhat discontented and looking for a little intrigue and excitement, foolish as that is in an elf of mature years! But perhaps we should look a bit more closely. Let me see the list again."

Estel brought Erestor the piece of parchment before sitting on the floor beside the advisor's desk. "I must admit I am rather discouraged. Even if we find a piece of the stolen goods, there will be no way to say who stole it unless we find it under someone's pillow! And there are more unhappy people in Imladris than I ever dreamed of, but only one of them is a thief. I give up."

"Ho, so my intrepid assistant yields the contest! Come, Estel, we just need to think harder. What of the oddities we discovered? List them for me."

Estel sighed deeply, but obliged. "Apparently a score or so of elves would like to take over from Ada and rule Imladris; Denedan has too many right shoes; Gildor has a sweet tooth and hides away sweetmeats; one elf keeps a venomous snake in his room; someone has been using a wall sconce to hide correspondence, Aenthir has a beautiful triptych that no one has ever seen before, but he does not want to say where he got it from…" The boy's voice droned on as Erestor got up and began to pace restlessly, the list of dissidents dangling from ink-stained fingers. "…Cyratan has ten arrowheads in a drawer that all have the points broken off; it appears that regardless of its constant presence at our breakfast table, we do not eat enough oatmeal; there is some sort of clanking noise in the far western corridor that is frightening elflings—I _would_ like to get to the bottom of _that_ one; and last but not least, two elves that had not spoken since before I was born are suddenly bosom friends. That is all I can remember."

Erestor froze in place, thumb and finger tugging at his lower lip. "I think….I think…." He raised the list of names and peered intently. "I have assumed the obvious, but what if the…."

The black-clad elf spun to face Estel, his eyes glittering with a predator's triumph. "I know where the gold is, and who has taken it!"

Estel scrambled to his feet, fatigued forgotten as he demanded, "Who?! Where?! How did you figure it out?"

Erestor laughed as he ruffled Estel's hair. "You told me everything I needed to piece the mystery together, my brave assistant!"

"I did? Just now, you mean? What did I say? Erestor, tell me!"

Smirking his most annoying smirk, the advisor said, "Think on your words since we started this discussion."

"But – I said a great many things! All things that we knew before! _Tell me_!"

"Think slowly and logically over all we have discussed, and it will come to you."

"Is there anything in particular that I should give my attention?"

Erestor started for the door to apprise Elrond of his deductions. "I might suggest the singular occurrence of the barrel of oatmeal."

Despairingly Estel cried, "But there was nothing wrong with the oatmeal! You said it was well done to be so full so late in the month!"

Erestor paused in the doorway and looked back at his protégé. "That is the singular occurrence."

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It was a solemn group that assembled in the commodious storage room that opened into the kitchens. It consisted of Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel with three guards, Estel trying hard to conceal his excitement, and a very angry Baenthir.

Elrond opened the proceedings. "Is there anything you would like to say before we begin searching?"

The normally genial elf blustered with indignation. "I protest this slur upon my character! You have no right to come into my domain. Unless I cease to feed this community, or allow foodstuffs to spoil, how I dispose my commodities is entirely up to me! If I am well ahead with oatmeal at this time of year, that is to my credit, not my condemnation!"

"If that is so, you will have no objection to Glorfindel searching the barrels."

"I have every objection! I will not have him and his guards running their filthy hands through them! Everything they touch will have to be thrown to the pigs!"

"I am sorry it has come to this. Glorfindel, please begin; you know what we are looking for."

The marshal motioned to two of the guards to stand beside Baenthir, while he and his companion began to pull the lids from the wooden barrels and run long iron rods into the contents again and again. Barley, wheat flour, buckwheat, rye, dried peas, lentils; all were opened and examined. When he came to the oatmeal, Elrond crowded close. The lid was removed and Glorfindel began to push the iron rod vigorously into the pale, dusty contents that came within a foot of the top of the barrel. At once he hit an obstruction that clanked dully and nodded to his lord. "It is here." Using a wooden scoop he began to remove the oatmeal into buckets provided for the purpose, and soon came to a burlap sack nearly white with oat dust. Glorfindel grasped the bundle with both hands and hefted it clear of the barrel and onto the floor, then began to untie the twine securing it shut. A small shower of oatmeal cascaded to the floor as he spread the sack open and stepped back. Elrond bent over, peering into the dark depths of the bag and reached within. The torchlight gleamed on the silver plate he held up. As one, those who had been concentrating on Glorfindel's task turned to look at the steward. An amazing transformation had taken place, for where before all had been genial heartiness and hail-fellow-well-met, there now stood an elf whose eyes shown with cunning and contempt.

Elrond gestured with the plate he still held. "What have you to say in your defense?"

"I have no idea how that bundle came to be here! You cannot prove that I do!"

Erestor stepped forward, speaking decisively, "One week ago we discussed the contents of this barrel. I, believing you to be trustworthy, accepted your word that careful husbandry and good management were the reasons you were so well supplied with oatmeal. Then yesterday my assistant reminded me that you serve oat porridge _every_ morning."

Baenthir's eyes flicked nervously from Erestor to Elrond. "I do not recall that conversation. It is your word against mine. Our lord would not condemn me with so little evidence."

Erestor smiled and motioned to Estel, who stepped proudly forward carrying a parchment. He looked to Erestor but the advisor nodded at Elrond. Estel cleared his throat and handed the parchment to his father. "This is a record of the conversation Erestor speaks of. I was present and took these notes—you can see it is my hand—I heard and wrote down every word spoken."

Baenthir paled, for he had completely forgotten the silent shadow that had hovered behind Erestor. Elrond took his time, reading and re-reading the relevant passage. Finally he looked up, a deep frown on his face as well as the beginnings of anger. "One week ago you were aware there was a problem with your supplies. We now know why this barrel was so full, but an innocent man would have investigated at once, and brought me word of what he had found."

The elf lord turned to Erestor. "Do you have any understanding of the motivation for this act against our community?"

"Sadly, my lord, I do. Estel found a list of names of elves who are associated together, and are against your rule here. The last name was roughly torn and only two characters could be discerned. I erred in thinking one was an 'm', when instead it was a 'b' with the stem torn away. The last character was an 'r'. I believe the name is Baenthir."

Elrond's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned his gaze upon the kitchen steward. He was a wise and benevolent ruler, but ruler he was and he did not look kindly upon threats to his lordship, few though they had been over the ages. "It is enough to hold him for trial. Perhaps I have been too lenient with dissenters of late, and now might be a good time to clean out a nest of vipers. Take him."

Glorfindel showed his teeth in a hungry grin, and laid a large hand on the steward's shoulder. "Come, Baenthir, I have some accommodations for you where we can prevent any further mischief."

The kitchen-steward drew himself to his full height and cried out furiously, "I will not be silenced! Too long has this land been ruled by one who cares nothing for the peace we have established here with toil and blood! Elrond will bring destruction upon us, for no longer are we unknown to the outside world! Strangers walk our halls and travel to far lands with our secrets –"

Glorfindel gave the steward a little shake—just a little one from his viewpoint—and the elf's eyes widened and his knees buckled. Glorfindel said genially, "You should not excite yourself so, it is bad for the digestion. Come along, Baenthir."

Before Glorfindel could lead the elf away, Estel asked, "I do not understand. How was gold and silver going to help him and his friends overthrow my father?"

Glorfindel replied, "Ah, now that is _my_ area of expertise, young sleuth-hound. He needs to outfit an army, of course. No doubt he is intelligent enough—barely—to know he would have to hire mercenaries, since naught but born fools would follow him in Imladris."

Estel's eyes took in the ordinary looking elf held firmly in the golden warrior's hands. He imagined Baenthir and a motley crew creeping on the Last Homely House with spears in their hands and the courage of strong drink in their veins. Then he looked up at Glorfindel and imagined the confrontation between Glorfindel and his warriors, and the party of malcontents. He looked again at Baenthir and gasped, "Are you_mad_? Glorfindel would have defeated you with one arm secured behind him!"

The boy's disbelieving scorn pierced Baenthir as no ringing denunciation could have done. He collapsed like a punctured bladder, vague dreams of glory and power dissolving like morning mist, leaving him with the cold reality of treason.

Glorfindel, one hand still pressing grooves into Baenthir's shoulder, made a courtly bow in Estel's direction before he left the room with his captive, his guards stepping smartly behind him.

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Two days later, when the uproar over Baenthir's planned coup and its pathetic ending had already begun to die down, Estel was once again in Erestor's study. And once again, the beleaguered advisor was trying to get a little work done.

"No."

"But –"

"Absolutely not."

"We could –"

"Absolutely, positively, unconditionally—no."

"But we worked so well together!"

"No."

Estel frowned, thinking hard of another approach. "Those two elves—the ones that suddenly became friends overnight after yen of hating each other—have you no curiosity? It could be another plot against Ada."

"I am not listening."

"What about Lindir? Everyone likes him so much and loves his music. We need to find out why he is so sad and thinking of leaving Imladris."

A deep sigh answered Estel. "I know what troubles Lindir, and it is nothing a young investigator—no matter how intrepid—can hope to resolve. Please forget these ideas of yours, Estel. It is a beautiful day outside, the warmest we have had in weeks. You should get some fresh air and exercise."

Estel paced restlessly about the room, picking up and putting down precious objects until Erestor's nerves were stretched to the breaking point. At last the boy drew a deep breath and played his last card—the one he had been holding for when all else failed. "What about the frightened elflings? Are you going to let them be terrorized by Valar knows what?"

Erestor's quill hesitated, and Estel pressed his advantage. "I have been asking around. Everyone has tried to discover what that clanking noise is—my brothers, the armorer, even Glorfindel. It would take a brilliant mind to unravel such a mystery."

"No." But this time the word lacked conviction.

Estel whispered breathlessly, "Come on, Erestor! We make a great team! You said I helped you find the answer, and that I was a good assistant. We can be the ones to solve the 'Riddle of the Clanking Gallery'!"

Erestor looked up and his lips were quirked ever so slightly. "Very well. Gather your things." Estel scrambled for his parchment and quills as the advisor put his work away.

As Erestor strode from behind his desk, he flicked a finger under the boy's chin. "Come, my assistant, we can but try."

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Fin

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A/N: One part of this story is a slight rewrite of one of my favorite Holmes/Watson exchanges:

"'(Watson) Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?' '(Holmes) To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.' 'The dog did nothing in the night-time.' 'That was the curious incident' " from The Hound of the Baskervilles

"Watson, we can but try." _Thor Bridge_ from "The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes"

Sleuth·hound: A dog used for tracking or pursuing, such as a bloodhound. Also called _sleuth_. [Middle-English


	9. Allies

Prompt inspired fic

Prompt: Snow

Title: Allies

Author: Pentangle

We're back to 'cute little Estel' in this one.

This ficlit also features the return of Enchain!Erestor, by request of his fans.

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**Allies**

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Erestor hunched his shoulders in a futile attempt to dampen the squeals and shrieks that assaulted his ears as he attempted to work his way through an endless stack of parchments. That blasted boy was _outdoors_ for pity's sake, yet his caterwauling carried far too clearly on the sharp winter air.

"I'll get you, you foul fiends! Take that! And that! And - " The taunting was cut off by a piercing yelp. "You'll pay for that!"

Erestor ground his teeth and lowered his head in a futile attempt to increase his concentration on the words before him. Then lower pitched voices were added to the ceaseless clamor produced by one solitary human child.

"We have been too easy on you, ruffian! Now you shall feel our wrath! You bring upon yourself the fury of the mightiest warriors in Imladris!"

The strident treble was not impressed. "Tell that to Glorfindel!" was followed by a derisive whistle that was soon changed to more shrieks as projectiles hit squarely on the small target.

Enough was enough! Erestor slammed both hands on the table as he rose imperiously to his feet. He stalked to the balcony of his study and viewed a scene of such devastation that even after his many trying experiences with the youngest son of the house, he was somewhat taken aback. The deep blanket of pristine snow, last seen glistening in the pale winter sun, now appeared as if a small army had trampled it to ruin. Two piles of snow faced each other across a broken expanse that lacked only blood to make it truly reassemble a battlefield. Estel was ensconced behind one snowbank, but he was hard pressed by twin elves who had begun to take his challenge a little too seriously. Snowballs flew in a bombardment that overwhelmed the boy, though he bravely stood his ground, his head and shoulders struck again and again as he rose to return fire. His hair hung wet and lank around his head, his scarf gone and perhaps lost until the spring thaws revealed it. The boy cried out as a firmly packed missile soundly connected with his shoulder, sending him sprawling. Erestor frowned direfully at the elves that normally protected Estel from any harm. It seemed as though they had temporarily forgotten his tender years and human condition. Just as Erestor was about to call out and stop the carnage, Estel cried surrender. The conquerors crowed their victory over the disappointed boy, though they also put their arms around him and led him off to a fire, dry clothes, and something hot to drink.

The Chief Advisor to Elrond watched pensively as the trio disappeared from view. Estel had fought gallantly, but his opponents held every possible advantage: strength, years, experience, and numbers. The black-haired elf who stood on the balcony decided a little intervention was in order. He thought of speaking with Elrond, but felt all parties would be averse to such a disclosure. He was, in any case, inclined toward something more personally satisfying. Suddenly his eyelids widened a fraction, then narrowed. He pondered another few moments, then turned away from the balcony to return to his work. Though he plowed steadily and virtuously through the tottering stack of parchment, occasionally he bore a slight smile more befitting a corsair than a staid scholar and councilor.

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Later that evening in the Hall of Fire, Erestor approached an elf who stood by the mantelpiece of the huge fireplace, one arm casually stretched along it. He was surrounded by a coterie of chattering friends, but he immediately noticed the dark elf that hung a little back from the group. He excused himself graciously and moved to meet his old friend. "Did you wish to speak with me?"

Erestor turned away from the crowd, the other elf falling in beside him. "Not with Glorfindel. I have need of the Lord of the Golden Flower."

"Indeed? You intrigue me, my friend. Say on."

As the two parted at Glorfindel's chambers, the reborn warrior wore a predatory grin. "It will take me most of the night to prepare, but it will be well worth it. What of you? Can you be ready in time?"

"I am always prepared for any situation. I will send word when it is time to assemble."

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The next morning, when the sun had climbed above the bare branches of the river birches that clustered along the walkways of Imladris, Estel stood behind his fort. He waited for his brothers who had expressed a willingness to defeat Estel again at any time of his choosing. Elrohir and Elladan sauntered to their own positions, remarking loudly on the predilection of humans to pursue impossible dreams.

Estel called across to his nemeses, "I will give you time to create a store of weapons."

"No need, Estel," returned Elladan, his shapely hands curving over a mass of snow, packing it tightly.

"I will also give you one chance to surrender before we begin."

Elrohir looked askance at Elladan, tapping one temple with a long finger. "You hit him too many times in the head yesterday, brother. His mind is clearly affected."

"We do not accept your gracious and desperate offer, youngling!"

"Then let no quarter be given!"

The twins raised their arms, loaded with snowballs. They exchanged a quick glance when Estel did not immediately duck into cover.

Elladan's arm jerked backward just as Estel cried, "Wait!"

Smirking, the twins lowered their arms slightly. "Have _you_ decided to surrender?"

"No, I just want to introduce you to my comrades in arms." Estel made a summoning gesture and two figures slowly rose above the snowbank. One shown brightly as the sun's rays fell on hair and armor, while the other was dark as night.

Glorfindel's golden hair was barely confined by a narrow circlet, and the breeze lifted the ends of the long strands so that they rose and fell. He stood clad in armor that outshone the sun, radiant stylized flowers on shoulders and breastplate. From the shoulder pins—each a hand's span across—depended the cloak of the Golden Flower, falling in generous folds down the warrior's back to his boot tops. Like the tunic he wore beneath his armor, it was of deepest green, embroidered heavily with gold. A mighty sword that was mere legend to most of the inhabitants of Imladris hung by his side. His tightly gloved fingers tapped gently on the hilt, as if from long-entrenched habit. The other hand tossed a snowball carelessly up, and then caught it again. He was the embodiment of majestic nobility. To look upon him was to hear trumpets, to see the flash of blades, to feel the ground tremble under a thunderous charge. To look upon him was to see what the Nazgul saw before it fled, defeated.

To Estel's left stood a figure that appeared even more daunting to Elladan and Elrohir. For this was the incarnation of a warrior's worst nightmare: long, lean, clothed in black so that it appeared he wore a glove over his entire body, so closely did tunic and breeks fit him. His hair was pulled tightly back and hung in a single plait to his hip. His face, too, was black—even the lowered eyelids. Though motionless, he seemed somehow fluid, as though he would flow rather than walk over the ground. He was the garrote in the dark, the mysterious fire that erupts at midnight, the dagger that slides between the ribs of a lone sentry.

Elrohir whispered, "Is that – who – is that _Erestor_?"

Erestor held a snowball in one hand, but it was mottled with brown and grey. Elladan gasped as he realized the snowball contained rocks. The elf that seemed made of shadows heard the gasp and his teeth flashed in a feral smile.

Elrohir hissed, "We are going to die."

"I know. Wait for my signal."

"To do what? Die? I do not need a signal for that!"

"To _run_."

"We cannot run—not from _them_! We will never hear the end of it!"

While Elrohir and Elladan conferred, events were moving on the other side of the battleground. Glorfindel spoke deferentially to the boy beside him. "We await your word, commander."

Estel, alight with excitement, slowly raised his hand above his head. Glorfindel stopped tossing his snowball and kissed it before drawing back his arm. Erestor sank down slowly, like a venomous snake preparing to strike.

Estel's hand fell. "NOW!"

As the fusillade flew toward them, Elladan and Elrohir held only momentarily before they broke and ran. Dodging, slipping, scrambling, and in Elladan's case, swearing as Erestor's projectiles struck him solidly in the back, they fled, followed by laughter and Estel's shouts of victory.

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Dinner that night in the Hall of Fire was a severe trial for two of Elrond's sons. Elladan winced every time he reached for something, and sent a glare down the table to a serene Chief Advisor who hardly appeared the sort to engage in a roustabout with children and snowballs. Although his demeanor was impeccably composed, those looking at him found themselves thinking of cats and cream. Elrohir sat glumly between his father and Glorfindel, listening to Estel recount the vanquishing of his brothers over and over and over and over again.

Glorfindel kept saying, "If you could have seen their faces when we stood up!" until Elrohir was ready to sink under the table. The marshal also took the opportunity to draw numerous lessons from the rout. "Estel, you must always remember that a weak enemy may have strong allies. Something you would think warriors of ten yen would know, would you not?"

Elladan sighed and crumbled his bread.

Shaking his head as he listened, Elrond seemed both amused and annoyed by the tale. "It appears to me that you and Erestor went to an extraordinary amount of trouble, just to let Elladan and Elrohir know their game had gotten out of hand." Elrond carefully wiped his fingertips on his napkin before he rose to signal the end of the meal. "Which, by the way, reminds me I would like to see the two of you in my study this evening. It will seem quite like old times."

Two subdued voices said, "Yes, Adar."

Glorfindel grasped Estel lightly by the shoulder as he, too, stood to leave the table. "Come and sit with me by the fire; I am not entirely convinced you did not take a chill today. You can get all warm and cozy, and I will tell you a story, hmm?"

"Thank you, I would love that!" A story from Glorfindel was a rare treat, but Estel had something else to do first. He dashed around the end of the table to where Erestor sat alone, finishing his wine and contemplating something no doubt complex and weighty.

The boy tugged on the elf's sleeve until Erestor bent toward him, frowning. "Estel, you should say 'Excuse me, please' or 'pardon me' when you want to gain someone's attention, instead of pulling on their clothing."

Estel pulled harder, until Erestor was close enough to place a kiss on his cheek. "I know it was you. Who thought of it, I mean."

Erestor's left eyebrow rose. "Now why would you think such a thing? It is far more likely that Glorfindel would – "

A brief, fierce hug. "I know it was you. Thank you."

Erestor waved the boy away, but said as he sent a satisfied smile in the direction of the twins, "It was my pleasure, Estel."

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End


	10. Responsibility

Title: Responsibility

Author: Pentangle

Prompt: Responsibility

Rating: G

Word count: 1736

Summary: two faces of the same coin.

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The Lord of Imladris drew the suture through the torn flesh, giving it a rather sharp tug as he tied the knot. "What on Arda made you pull it out before you came to the healing rooms?"

His patient showed no sign of his rough treatment, sitting stoically at the foot of the bed, his hands braced on his knees. "Do not fuss, Elrond. It was obvious it only hit muscle. I was _not_ going to walk the halls with an arrow shaft bobbing behind me."

Finishing the neat line of stitches, Elrond then took a square of moist linen and smoothed it over the shoulder, arm, and back of his most senior advisor, cleaning away the last traces of blood. "Are you going to tell me who did this? Tell me which of our young stalwarts saw fit to wound my right hand?"

The sleek, black hair that hung to Erestor's waist had been carefully pulled to the side of his neck, and pale fingers fiddled absently with the long tail. "I did not actually see him. As I have said far too many times already, I was taking a walk along the river and was shot—quite poorly, the Valar be thanked—and my assailant ran off."

Elrond frowned as he thought over his friend's words. There was something he was missing. He shook his head and sighed. "Get dressed and I will have a light supper sent to your room. I want you to drink half of this cordial when you have finished your meal, and then to bed with you. Yes, yes, I know the wound is not serious, but humor me and get a full night's reverie before you return to your duties."

Erestor simply nodded and rose, reaching for his robe and pulling it gingerly around him. As he put a hand on the door, Elrond could not resist one last comment. "You seem so calm, Erestor. Why are you not more upset at being shot in your own home?"

Erestor started to shrug, winced, and replied simply, "We have over seventy warriors in training, a goodly number barely past their majority. Someone was merely taking target practice and had not the good sense to check that there was no one in the vicinity. I bid you good 'even, Elrond."

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Two hours later, Erestor sat ensconced in his favorite chair with the indulgence of a rug tucked around his legs. He perused a small book, and picked listlessly at a plate of cheese and fruit placed on the table beside him. His shoulder throbbed and he was uncharacteristically dispirited. He did not appear to notice when the door to his study opened a crack and then stopped. After several long minutes, the crack widened. Since the door creaked a little, it was unlikely the advisor was still unaware he was about to have a guest, but his gaze remained fixed on his book. Finally a small figure sidled into the room. Erestor tuned a page. The interloper moved slowly along the endless bookshelves, keeping his back tight against the wall like a sneak thief. A soft, breathy voice called, "Erestor?"

No answer. The figure took a deep breath and moved across the room until he stood before the councilor. Erestor licked a fingertip and turned another page. A pleading whisper: "Erestor?"

Slowly the dark eyes of the elf rose, viewing the human boy who stood before him. The eyes that met his were filled with sorrow and fear, and the small hand that reached tentatively for his sleeve trembled. "Are – are you all right?"

"I am in a fair amount of pain, Estel."

The hand on the black sleeve jerked convulsively, and a sob was heard. "I am so sorry, Erestor. So very, very sorry! I would never hurt you!"

"Yet you did. Not four hours ago, in fact."

The youngest son of the house, and the personal thorn in Erestor's side—quite literally, it now appeared—stood in anguished silence, having no idea how to proceed. He had accidentally hurt his dear friend and feared that he would never be forgiven. Erestor turned back to his book, his back stiff and unyielding, his manner even more so. No forgiveness then. Best to look to other matters, if his friend was lost to him. "Ada said nothing at dinner. Did you tell him?"

"Tell him what, Estel?"

"What I – what I did."

"And what would that be?"

"I was playing and I accidentally – accidentally! Sort of by accident shot you with an arrow."

The advisor did not look up and turned yet another page. "You might want to rephrase that."

Estel knotted his brow. Sometimes Erestor was very frustrating to talk to. He _had_ been playing and it _was_ an accident. He had confessed and apologized; what else was required? Since he was being utterly ignored, he sighed and sat down cross-legged on the floor. He had spent a fair amount of the last few hours crying, and now his head ached and his nose was stuffy. He pinched the bridge of his nose in unconscious imitation of a favorite mannerism of the elf seated before him, and thought some more. After a seeming eternity of pondering, the boy clambered to his feet and again touched Erestor's sleeve. "I took something I was not supposed to touch without my brothers or Glorfindel helping me."

"And?"

"And I went somewhere I was not to go."

"Yes, and?"

"And I did something that everyone knows you should not do—even babies know you should be careful there is no one around if you are going to shoot a bow and arrow."

"Continue."

"And because I took what I was not to take, and went where I was not to go, and did was I was forbidden to do, you were hurt and I would not have you hurt for anything."

"That seems a more accurate description of events." Erestor's eyes dropped back to his book.

Estel's lip was trembling, but Erestor took no notice. Finally, in desperation, the boy demanded, "What will my punishment be?"

Two more pages turned before Erestor said, "I am not going to punish you, Estel."

Estel stared in disbelief. "Not? You're not going to punish me?"

"No."

Estel felt a great weight lift from his shoulders, only to have it return moments later. "But you're going to tell Ada, aren't you? And then _he_ will punish me."

Erestor's eyes met Estel's and the somber gaze made Estel's stomach do a funny flip. "I am not going to tell your father, Estel."

The boy could not believe his good fortune. A smile composed of equal parts relief and gratitude flashed up at Erestor. He cried, "Oh thank you, Erestor! Thank you!" He held out his arms, expecting to be received into a hug of forgiveness, but Erestor simply looked at him.

"It is not my responsibility to tell your father."

"Oh. No? Well, that's good then. I mean, you will be better soon and I _promise_ to never do that again,

so - "

"Nonetheless, he needs to know of this, Estel."

"But why? Many times you have punished me yourself and never told Ada what I did!"

"That was when the offense was minor, Estel. Your father did not need to know that you broke my quill, or that you tore a rare book. We could resolve the matter between us two alone. In this case, one of your father's subjects wounded another. It is for him to determine what course of action should be taken."

When put in such stark—and adult—terms, Estel began to see his crime in a new light. "But you are not going to tell him?"

"No." Erestor returned his gaze to the book for which Estel was developing a strong antipathy.

The boy stood trembling with uncertainty, and an impending sense of doom. A horrible thought hovered just outside his grasp, and he was none too sure he wanted to pursue it. "Then...then how will he know?"

Erestor once more raised his head and simply looked at his young protégé. The horrible thought became clear under the calm waiting gaze. Estel held out for an interminable minute, hoping for deliverance from some unknown agency, then took a deep breath. "I - " His voice cracked."- I have to tell him."

Erestor simply nodded, but an acute observer would detect a slight warming in the dark eyes.

Estel's demeanor now resembled that of one about to ascend the gallows. "Will you go with me?"

Erestor actually hesitated, searching the tragic face before him, then he firmed his resolve. "This you must do alone, Estel."

The boy turned slowly and made his way to the door at a snail's pace. He placed his hand on the door handle, waiting a few moments for a last minute reprieve that never came. He glanced back at Erestor who nodded encouragingly. The thin shoulders squared, the back stiffened, and the chin rose. The door opened and Estel passed through into the dim hallway.

Erestor slid a silk bookmark into his book. Curiously, he turned back several pages before he set the ribbon into place. Then he rose, carefully straightened his robes, and strode for the doorway. Once in the hall, he moved to the shadows and flowed along the quiet passageway as if he were a shadow himself. At length he came to an intersection where he paused and peered around the corner. He watched as Estel raised his hand to knock at an ornately carved door, but quickly dropped it to his side. The boy turned away and Erestor held his breath. Then Estel turned back to the door, again raised his hand and knocked loudly. A muffled voice bid him enter and Estel walked through, but in his nervousness he forgot to close the door behind him. Erestor flitted into a new position, back pressed tightly against the wall. He was just in time to hear, "Ada, I have something to tell you."

The Advisor waited no longer, but strode down the hall with nearly his normal speed and flare, only a slight frown crossing his features when a too-bold step jarred his shoulder. He headed for the kitchen, as he suddenly found himself with quite an appetite. As he walked his eyes shown with fierce pride and, dare one say it, love.

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End


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